


Never Trust Bryce Larkin

by nutmeg223



Series: Charles NOT in Charge [4]
Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Cuddling & Snuggling, Discipline, Domestic Discipline, Gen, M/M, Over the Knee, Spanking, bryce larkin gets his, casey does not get paid enough for this, writing lines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 11:43:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14260230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutmeg223/pseuds/nutmeg223
Summary: Chuck will never, ever trust Bryce again.Ever.





	1. Chapter 1

Chuck hunched in on himself on the sofa, knee bouncing nervously. He sent a sideways glance at Bryce, but he just stared straight ahead as General Beckman comprehensively bawled them out. Casey stood behind them, arms crossed, and Chuck suddenly understood the phrase "a face like the Wrath of God." He should _never_ have listened to Bryce. Ever. And _when_ was he going to learn that any situation that started with Bryce saying 'trust me' would only end in tears?

"...I am going to let Colonel Casey handle disciplinary action for you both, this time; no arguments, Agent Larkin. You, especially, have caused more trouble for two agencies than I have _ever_ had to handle. Off-book consequences may help to curb your tendency to run straight into trouble. Am I understood?"

"Yes'm." Chuck and Bryce chorused.

"Good. And Agent Larkin?"

"Yes ma'am?" Bryce's voice cracked.

"Any more...shenanigans from you and you'll be taken off international work and partnered with that other Walker in domestic."

"Yes'm." Bryce choked it out, flushing miserably. Sarah was so going to kill him. 

"Casey, you'll handle this?" Beckman turned her attention from the miscreants on the sofa. 

"Yes, ma'am. It _will_ be handled, promptly."

Chuck shifted and swallowed nervously when Beckman ended the call. He could feel Doom in the air, kind of like a thunder storm about to hit. 

"Charles, upstairs, now." Casey ordered, slightly mollified by prompt obedience.

Chuck fled, thankful that Casey didn't swat him on the way out. He did _not_ want Bryce seeing that. He sighed glumly as he entered their room. He had to make a decision: either sit on the bed and wait for his Doom, or show Casey that he wasn't going to try to weasel out of anything he deserved. He grumbled a little as he stripped off pants and boxers, stuffed them in the hamper, and made his way to the only empty corner in the room. His corner. He hated it, hated standing with his back to the room, knowing that Casey would be in soon and then he really wouldn't have to worry about his ass feeling a little chilly. 

And he felt bad enough about the whole thing, anyway, without being punished for it. And he really needed to stop shying away from what was about to happen. He was waiting, ass on display, for Casey to come in and spank him. Probably with the brush, since that's what he'd been promised if he ever knowingly took his watch off or let Bryce take it off without a fight. The bit about Bryce had been added later, once Beckman had transferred Bryce into their little merry band of spies as his home base. He was in Burbank part-time, if anything, but Casey liked to cover his bases. Chuck heard Casey in the doorway and tensed; he couldn't help it. 

Casey crossed the room and pulled Chuck from the corner...and into a bone-crushing hug. There hadn't been time earlier, what with the rescue mission and the potential Intersects and the strafing. His boy had scared him but good, and he was NOT a man who did scared. 

"Didn't know where you'd run off to, at first." Casey murmured. "Thought I'd...we'd lost you."

"Wouldn't _ever_ run away from you." Chuck murmured. "And you'd have to double-kneecap me to keep me from coming after you if you ever had to leave."

"Hell, kid. No more running off with Larkin, you hear me?"

"I do. I'm sorry!" 

"He tries that again, you don't just go along. You yell for Grimes if I'm not there."

"Morgan?" Chuck squeaked.

"You know anyone who hates Larkin more? I don't like Grimes, but I trust him more than I trust Larkin, with you." Casey growled it to try to keep the sentimentality from showing.

He'd sound like frigging May in a couple of minutes if he didn't tamp it down. All big, shining Disney eyes and love songs from Broadway. Blech.

"Are you...am I...are you gonna paddle me?" Chuck had to ask. 

"That watch come off?" Casey growled.

"Y'sir." Chuck sighed.

"You let Larkin take it off?" 

"Y'sir."

"Then what the hell do you think I'm going to do?" Casey pulled Chuck closer and cupped the back of his head.

"I think you're gonna paddle me. With The Brush." Chuck muttered into his shoulder.

"You got that right, kid."

"Now?" 

His boy sounded resigned and nervous. Casey pushed him back a little so he could see the kid's face and know exactly what was going through that big brain of his. 

"I think I need to deal with Larkin first, if that's okay, kid."

Chuck's brows drew down as he thought for a minute.

"Are you gonna…seriously? Bryce?"

"We need to have a talk about consequences."

Chuck winced.

"Yeah, kid." Casey chuckled. "That talk."

He knew how much Chuck hated talking about consequences, mostly because he almost always had to supply his part of the conversation from somewhere near the floor while Casey inspired cooperation.

"Oooh. I really should work on talking him out of stuff." Chuck let his forehead drop back to his shoulder. 

Casey pulled him close for a few more minutes. Larkin could stew a bit...wouldn't hurt him at all to wonder what was going to happen. And he needed to see if he could get a more coherent story from his boy, first.


	2. Chapter 2

"First, kid, you're going to tell me exactly what happened. Then, I'll deal with Larkin. And kid?"

"Yeah...uh, yes sir?" Chuck knew exactly how Casey felt about "yeah". 

"While I'm dealing with Larkin, you're going to be thinking really hard about how I feel about being lied to, manipulated, and left. You understand me?" Casey felt Chuck stiffen in his arms and pushed his boy back.

"But I didn't!" Chuck protested.

"Didn't what?" Casey couldn't help the sigh. It was going to be one of those afternoons.

"I didn't lie and I didn't manipulate!" 

Did the kid just try to stamp a foot? The Casey who lived in his head pinched the bridge of his nose and went to look for the Advil. They both had a headache.

"What do you call not telling me about talking to your dad, and making damn sure that you were close enough that we'd have to rescue him?" 

Chuck opened his mouth, but he was without a defense. For once. 

"That's what I thought, kid. So, explain to me how we got here."

He figured that he could at least get some answers, some Advil, and then some revenge on Larkin.

"Before I lose patience." And the growl did it, as always.

Chuck, obviously unwilling, started the story…

**The Previous Afternoon**

"Come on!" Bryce hissed and caught Chuck by the wrist, pulling him toward the door. 

"Whoa, Bryce, buddy, come on now. I'm not supposed to be going any -"

"Shut _up_!" Bryce tried to speak without moving his mouth as he worked on the strap to Chuck's watch. "And trust me!" 

"Bryce! I'm waiting for...and I'm still on the...Bryce!" 

"We're going to find your dad, Chuck." Bryce explained, towing him outside.

"No. No no no. Bryce, this is an awful idea! Seriously, let me go! I'm supposed to be staying put! Oof!"

Instead of being let loose, Chuck found himself stuffed into the passenger side of a… 

"Where did you even _find_ a Dodge Spirit?" 

"All steel, and no computer parts." Bryce gave by way of an answer, pulling out of the parking lot. "Which way?"

"Bryce, this is kidnapping! And Casey is going to _kill_ us!"

"Only if we're not successful. Come on, Chuck. I know that you know where to go. Now, which way?" 

Chuck sighed and handed him the directions he'd written down. Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb, whatever the hell that meant. And, he knew, Bryce would just never give up anyway. It was easier to give in.

"You really don't know him, do you? We're breaking, like, a thousand rules. He told me to stay put."

"And what? Is Daddy going to yell? Where's the Chuck I know?" Bryce goaded.

"If by Daddy you mean my father, he probably will. And Casey definitely will, a lot. And he'll be disappointed, which is even worse." Chuck allowed himself a deep sulk.

"Dude, stop _pouting_ at me." Bryce punched him in the arm. 

Chuck didn't answer. He was too busy trying to think of a way out of the absolute pit Bryce had dug for the both of them.

* * *

 

Chuck waited until Bryce headed into the shower to put the first part of his plan in motion. He tried to keep the mattress from creaking as he rolled over toward the phone. Heart hammering, he lifted the receiver off the cradle and held it to his ear. Swallowing hard on a combination of nerves and relief at the dial tone, he dialled Ellie and just hoped the NSA was listening. He got voice mail and tried to keep the nerves out of his voice as he left a message.

"Hey El! It's Chuck...which you know because hey! on your voicemail! Umm...could you let Casey know that Bryce kinda kidnapped me for some bonding time? We'll totally be back for the wedding, I promise! But he kinda got me without my phone or anything, so if you could just let Casey know that we're okay, I'd appreciate it! I love you! Bye!"

With any luck, that would get intercepted. Hearing the water shut off, Chuck hastily replaced the receiver and curled up on his side. He willed himself to relax and look asleep. He heard Bryce moving around the room. 

"Chuck? Buddy?" Bryce whispered. "Damn. Well, we'll just have to plan in the morning. It's an awesome plan."

Chuck made a sleepy noise and burrowed further into his pillow. He was totally awesome at the spy thing.

* * *

 

Throwing up a cloud of dust, Casey pulled up along the back of the motel building. He and Walker had spent most of the night driving after getting the message from Chuck, trying to get to the kid before something really bad happened. Worse than Larkin, anyway, and it was going to be hard to top that little weaselly bastard's presence in their lives. They'd spent the first goddamn hour with Beckman chewing them out for losing the kid, and they were both tired and fed up. At least Walker didn't chatter. He'd have had to shoot her if she'd started talking. 

They exited the Vic in unison, and he had to appreciate her as a partner again. She didn't babble, she didn't want to talk about her feelings, she could possibly wipe the floor with him if she was pissed enough, and she could take direction. Guns drawn, they eased around the side of the building; Larkin was there, and they weren't taking any chances with him. He'd debated exactly what the prick needed, and while he wasn't sure it was a bullet, he was still weighing the relative merits of a belt to the ass vs. a paddle. Or maybe a switch. He nearly ran into the back of Sarah as she stopped short.

Chuck, for all the damn world to see, sat on the trunk of a late model Spirit, looking exceedingly glum.

"Kid?" Casey kept his voice down, no use startling his boy.

Chuck looked up and brightened for a second before the glum came back. They moved carefully over to him, just in case he was bait. 

"Hi," he managed before he had to look down at his shoes again.

"Where's Larkin, kid?" Casey growled.

Chuck went pink and started tapping on the trunk. 

"Chuck, where is he?" Sarah butted in, more gently. "You need to tell us, right now."

The kid bit his lip and went pinker, if that was even possible.

"He's in the trunk." Chuck admitted.


	3. Chapter 3

"In the…" Sarah repeated, she seemed to be having some trouble keeping from howling with laughter. "How did you get him in there?" 

"One of your sleeper darts? And surgical tape...and his belt." For some reason, his boy looked shamefaced at that. He'd just have to get to the bottom of it later. 

"Off." Casey ordered.

He allowed himself a little smug as Chuck responded immediately to the growl. He clicked his fingers and pointed; Chuck handed Sarah the keys and scooted over to him. He towed the kid back toward the sliver of covered porch; Walker could deal with opening the trunk.

"M'sorry." Chuck mumbled. 

Casey snorted.

"Not nearly as you're going to be, kid," he muttered. "You okay?"

"Y'sir." Chuck couldn't manage to look at anything other than his shoes.

"Good. Stay here. I mean it, kid," Casey tipped Chuck's chin up so he could look him in the eye.

"Yes sir. Right here." Chuck's lip wobbled.

"It's not that bad, Chuck." He allowed himself the fifty seconds to run his fingers through Chuck's hair before he went to join Walker at the trunk. 

He had to whistle at the job Chuck had done, mostly to cover up the fact that Walker was one snide comment away from wetting her pants laughing. Surgical tape bound Larkin at his ankles, knees, wrists, and elbows. His belt bound his upper arms to his sides and a complex web of more surgical tape bound his knees to his wrists. Admittedly, it was pretty impressive. And as a plus, Larkin had kind of hairy wrists, so getting the tape off would hurt like a bitch. Casey hauled the young man out of the trunk and over his shoulder.

"You have a room?" he asked Chuck.

Chuck led the way wordlessly. Once inside, Casey flopped Larkin down on the bed and turned to his boy. 

"Sit your ass down, kid." 

Chuck sat, fast.

"Wrist."

His boy immediately held out his wrist. Casey strapped the watch back on him, feeling a weight lift as he did. 

"Oughta microchip you," he muttered. "Then we wouldn't be chasing our own asses all over California." 

"Um?" Chuck shifted and swallowed hard. 

"What, kid?" 

"Could you, um...could you look at this? Please? I know you're really not happy with me right now, but can you please just look?" he held out a flash drive. "Please?" 

Casey sighed. He never could resist Chuck's earnest eyes, and god help them all if the kid found out. 

"Fine. You stay in here with Walker. And Walker?"

"Hmm?" Walker looked up from picking surgical tape off Larkin's ankles. 

"Shoot that little weasel if he tries to get away."

Walker gave him a near-feral grin. 

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that."

Yeah, because that was reassuring. He tried to shake off the slight feeling of foreboding as he jogged out to the Vic and booted up the laptop they'd brought. Five minutes with the drive had him calling Beckman. The kid had actually put together a comprehensive and cogent argument, for once. And the threat assessment had Sarah's and May's prints all over it, so someone was learning how to use the resources at his disposal. 

"Ma'am?"

"Colonel?" 

"Ma'am?" He hadn't even _known_ he was up for a promotion. 

"Colonel Casey, get to the point!" She sounded a little sharper than usual, if that was even possible. "I'm late for a meeting."

"I think we're going to have to rescue Bartowski, ma'am."

"Do NOT tell me you lost him. Again." Her voice took on the pinched tone that preceded a thorough dressing-down. 

"No, ma'am. The father, ma'am. Chuck put together a good file. Check your mail, ma'am." When in doubt, fall back to good manners. 

He heard clicking and then a low, muttered curse.

"Fine, Colonel Casey, go get him." She sighed deeply. "Just keep Larkin under lock and key, and keep the other Bartowski out of harm's way. I have a few things to say to both of them."

"Yes ma'am. Should have everyone home by morning." 

"See that you do. And Casey?" 

"Yes, ma'am?" 

"When you have everyone out, call me. I'll...make certain that clean-up is taken care of."

"Yes ma'am, will do." He knew what that meant; they both loved a good strafing run. 

"Check in when you're done."

With that, she was gone. 

Casey locked the laptop away and jogged back to the motel room. He slipped in, pleased to see Chuck where he'd left him. Walker had a gagged Larkin handcuffed to the bed and was picking surgical tape off him. Slowly. With great relish. He wondered about her, sometimes. 

"Go for Operation Bartowski." Casey informed her. 

She nodded. "Good."

* * *

 

Chuck glared at Bryce and shifted in his seat. They were both cuffed securely in the back seat of the Vic, held tightly enough that even Bryce couldn't get out. He'd tried, too, but with his right hand cuffed to the door, his left hand cuffed through that nifty little doohickey in the center, and each ankle cuffed separately to the floor, he couldn't go far. He couldn't even move either hand enough to get to the other cuff. And Chuck wasn't about to help. Casey'd had a few choice words for him about following Bryce into trouble, and he really, really didn't want to push.

"Narc." Bryce muttered, sounding as sour as Chuck felt. "I _know_ you told someone or they wouldn't have found us."

"Asshole." Chuck muttered back, ignoring the rest.

"Pussy." 

"Douchebag."

"Baby. Ooooh, Casey might worry." Bryce mocked. "You are so whipped."

"You're such a jackass, Bryce." Chuck clenched his jaw. 

"At least I'm not wetting my pants because Casey's mad at me." 

"At least I'm not sulking because my friend _grew up_ and doesn't want to be reckless." Chuck sniped back, sick of Bryce's attitude. "Dick."

"Wuss."

"Asshat."

"Bastard. Kiss ass, suck up _bitch_!" 

"Shut. Up." Chuck managed a creditable growl. 

"At least I didn't earn my place on my kn-OW!"

Chuck proved Casey liked him best by reaching over easily and giving Bryce a vicious pinch on the thigh.

"Do NOT. Ever." He gritted it out through clenched teeth. 

Bryce subsided into sulky, pointed silence. Chuck glared for a few minutes before subsiding into his own pronounced sulk.

The atmosphere of the Vic was still decidedly sulky when Casey yanked open the door and shoved Stephen into the middle. Sarah piled in on the other side, shoving Stephen down as Casey peeled out of the lot. Fighter jets screamed overhead, scattering Fulcrum agents. Sarah opened the window and boosted herself onto the frame; Casey immediately caught her ankle to help her balance as she shot over the top of the Vic, adding to the chaos on the ground. 

Once they were far enough away, she dropped back into her seat and grinned back at Chuck and Bryce.

"So, how'd you two do?" She sounded almost chirpy, probably because she'd just gotten to kick ass.

Chuck and Bryce glared sullenly at the floor. 

"Oh, that well." Mercifully, she left them alone. 

"Charles, are you being held against your will?" Stephen, sitting up, twisted to look at Chuck. "I was hoping you'd be there so we could get rid of - " 

"Dad," Chuck sighed. "I'm fine. And we've been through this fifteen times. I don't _want_ to get rid of it." 

"Now, you're fine _now_. We don't know about down the road, Charles, and I'd expect you to be more concerned about -" 

" _Dad_ ," Chuck rubbed a hand over his face. "We have done this. We aren't going over it again. I made a choice." 

"And I don't think you're making it with your head. I didn't raise you to - "

"No, Dad," Chuck cut in. "You didn't raise me at all. Ellie did, and she raised me to do the right thing. Not the right thing for me, but the right thing, period. Drop it." 

"And I can't believe that your sister wants you to keep going with something this dangerous, Charles. Have you thought about what this is doing to - "

"Dad!" Chuck really did NOT want to do this in front of everyone. "I have talked to Ellie. I have talked to Awesome. I have talked to Ellie and Awesome. I have talked to them with Sarah, without Sarah, with Casey, without Casey, with both of them, and with General goddamn Beckman! You can't just walk back in and act like you get to tell me what to do! And you don't get to play the Ellie card! I'm the one who knows why the hell she hasn't eaten pancakes in eight years!"

"Bartowski senior, can it." Casey growled, putting as much menace as he could into three words. "Junior, take deep breaths." 

Casey rolled his neck, trying to ease some of the tension. He goddamn hated car fights.

"This isn't like you, Charles." Stephen had to get the last word in.

"Yeah, well, you wouldn't really know what's like me, would you?" Chuck sounded like he was about to cry. "And Bryce, I swear to god, if you don't stop smirking, I will pinch you again!"

The car went silent after that, thankfully. Casey flicked on the radio to fill the uncomfortable quiet; it would help him think, anyway.

* * *

 

Casey let his boy lapse into quiet and made a decision. He'd pretty much come to the same conclusion in the car, but he needed to put his boy out of his misery. They'd migrated to the bed while Chuck talked, and he hugged his boy closer.

"Chuck?" he reached up to knead at the nape of the kid's neck. 

"Yes sir?"

"I'm not paddling you, kid, not over this."

Chuck wound himself around Casey even tighter.

"Did they replace you with a pod person?"

Casey let himself laugh.

"No, kid, no pod person. Look, I'm going to put you over my knee and spank you until you don't want to sit down, but I'm not paddling you with the brush. Not after today. Kid, you...you did so much right today. Issue with Larkin and not telling me about your dad aside, you did good and I'm proud of you."

He wasn't expecting Chuck's eyes to well up and the tears to spill down his boy's cheeks.

"Hey, hey, kid, what's wrong?"

He let Chuck cling and hide his face in his chest.

"Okay, kiddo, you just let it out." He rubbed Chuck's back and waited for the kid to calm down a little.

"M'sorry! I'm sorry! It's just…" Chuck trailed off.

"Didn't get much sleep last night?" Casey asked gently.

Chuck shook his head.

"I was so worried! That you wouldn't get the message and you and Sarah wouldn't get here and that I'd be...I'd have to help Bryce and it was stupid, him bringing just me! We can't...I'm not Sarah and I don't like...I wanted Dad safe, but I didn't want to…"

"Okay, okay, kid." Casey soothed. "You're going to take a nap while I deal with Larkin. We'll talk later, okay? You gonna be okay waiting?" 

Chuck sniffled and nodded.

"You don't want me in the corner?" 

"I want you tucked up in our bed, sleeping. Can you do that?"

Chuck just nodded again, yawning widely. "Yes sir. I can just sleep."

"Good boy. Come on, pajamas." Casey chivvied Chuck up and quickly had him in pajamas.

Chuck yawned through the whole process, looking adorably rumpled. Casey really wanted to stay with his boy, hold him until he fell asleep, but he had to content himself with tucking Chuck in and leaving him safe in their room.


	4. Chapter 4

Casey jogged down the stairs, feeling more than a little smug. His boy was, at least, less miserable, _and_ he got to Do Something about Larkin. He'd have to figure out a reward for his boy, too, since he'd done more right than wrong. Maybe take him somewhere relaxing for a couple of days after the wedding. He bypassed Larkin, still sitting on the sofa with his head in his hands, for the kitchen and a glass of water. He still had to decide what to do with the troublesome brat.

He found a sturdy hairbrush with a ribbon tied perkily around the handle sitting on the counter and snorted. May. He picked it up, testing the weight, and read the little note dangling off the ribbon. He had to bite back a bark of laughter at the rhyme in May's elegant, looping hand:

_Belts are painful_   
_Tawses weird_   
_Canes leave bruises_   
_Paddles are feared_   
_Switches impractical_   
_(It's SoCal, you see)_   
_So if nothing else sounds good,_   
_How about me?_

_PS Do this properly or Chuck will kill you_   
_PPS I'll drop groceries and dinner off later. Text if you need anything special._   
_PPPS Use the hairbrush, not your gun! I mean it!_   
_PPPS When you finish with the boys, there are peanut butter cookies in the usual place, ditto your favorite coffee blend._

Seemed like his decision had been made. The brush had a good weight to it, and felt pretty well-balanced. Trust May to 'anticipate his needs'. Best PA he'd ever had, in any case. He shoved the note and the ribbon into one of the drawers and hooked a chair out from the table.

"Larkin! Get your ass in here!" he called.

Unsurprisingly, Larkin didn't move. 

"Larkin! Move it!" he barked, using his best Drill Sergeant voice.

That got Larkin moving. Usually worked on recalcitrant boys. He watched the young agent scuff over to him, looking sullen. As the boy drew close enough, he dropped the brush on the table, letting it clunk ominously. Larkin tracked it, eyes widening in shock. Casey propped a foot on the rung of the chair and tucked his thumbs into his belt. It put him in a good position to haul the sulky brat over his thigh, and made him look even bigger. Bonus for extra intimidation.

"We're going to have a long talk, boy." Casey drawled.

Larkin gulped nervously and went even paler. 

"I don't have to 'talk' to you." Larkin snotted. "I'm CIA, not NSA."

Casey barked an unpleasant laugh.

"Boy, I don't give a damn about your career or agencies right now. You can flush your career for all I care; seem to be doing a damn good job of that right now, anyway. We're going to have a good, long chat about you nabbing Chuck and leading him into trouble. It stops today."

"We're both adults! You can't...It's not… _you can't_!" Larkin wrapped his arms around himself defensively.

"Larkin," Casey started. 

"It's _not fair_!" Larkin sulked.

He'd planned on being reasonable with the ill-mannered agent, but that just burned. Not fair, his ass. He grabbed Larkin's arm and hauled the little snot over his thigh. They'd see how not fair a paddled backside felt later. If he wanted to complain about not fair, then he could take the consequences for taking off the watch and going off-grid.

"What the _fuck_? Casey!" Larkin squirmed wildly, but he had no leverage draped over Casey's thigh.

Casey landed a heft smack on the wiggling seat of Larkin's jeans, tearing a yelp out of the brat.

"You watch your mouth," he growled, smacking again. 

Larkin didn't make a sound, apparently deciding that stubborn was the way to go. Casey snorted and reached under the boy to pop the button on his jeans. He wasily yanked jeans and boxers south, baring the young man to his discipline, and set about smacking his backside pink. He could see Larkin's set jaw and the tension in his back, giving him a good idea of just how much it cost the young man to hold back. Judging his pink ass warm enough to handle it, Casey paused long enough to pick up the brush. He gave Larkin a couple of minutes to really dread what was coming before he snapped the brush down. The first crisp smack dragged a pained hiss from the boy over his thigh. 

Better.

He laid down a hard volley of smacks, getting some kicking and a couple more hisses out of Larkin. 

"This, Larkin, is what happens when you behave like a selfish asshole and kidnap the Intersect. My job is to keep him safe and alive. When you screw with that, then you get your ass paddled." Casey lectured, catching Larkin where he sat with the brush.

"Fuck you!" Larkin snarled, sounding choked. "You're not my boss!"

Casey sighed; he'd expected that response.

"You want to be on this team, Larkin, then you listen to me and do as you're damn well ordered. There is one chain of command, and you're not at the top. Hell, what happened to serving your country, huh? That's what we do, Larkin, we serve our country. Christ, it's like that punk Westen got burned and now you're all self-aggrandizing, loner brats, or you have so many mommy and daddy issues that you can barely function. There are no goddamned gold stars for doing your job. You do it and you do it well, and if you're lucky it doesn't end with a bullet to the head. On this team? I'm the only boss you have, and I am done dealing with your shit, young man. If you can't shape up, then you ship out."

Casey paddled the boy steadily as he lectured, painting his ass bright and burning red. Larkin wiggled and squirmed, squeaking in distress as Casey lit his ass on fire. He shifted Larkin further forward and paddled his sit spots, hard. Finally, he got a solid yell out of the boy. He snapped the brush down, setting a punishing rhythm, hoping to break down the boy's resolve. Larkin yelled his head off, masking distress with anger and a hell of a lot of sass. 

Well, he knew how to deal with that. He started down the backs of Larkin's thighs, ensuring that the boy wouldn't sit comfortably for a good long while. Larkin lasted only a few minutes before collapsing into boneless penitence. Casey moved back up to the crease of bottom and thigh to land a couple dozen more spanks before he stopped. 

He let Larkin calm down for a few minutes before he put the boy back on his feet. Larkin scrubbed a hand across his face, looking at the floor, and hauled his pants up.

"Anything you want to say?" Casey asked sternly. 

"M'sorry." Larkin muttered it, but he sounded sincere.

"You'll apologize to Chuck, too."

"Yessir." Still muttered, but respectful.

Casey gripped his shoulder for a minute; he sure as hell wasn't hugging Larkin.

"Good. Go on and wash up." 

Larkin went toward the powder room. Casey waited, straightening up a few things until Larkin shuffled out. 

"You're going to sleep for a while. Not on the sofa; you'll be in the guest room." He got Larkin by the shoulder again and steered the boy upstairs.

He sure as hell wasn't giving Larkin any chance to get away. He nudged Larkin into the guest room. 

"Bed." He ordered. "Stay put until I come for you."

He just hoped Larkin, who'd fallen face-down on the bed, wouldn't notice that the guest room doubled as a holding room with no door handle on the inside of the steel-core door. He waited until he heard a few snores issue from Larkin before he shut the door.

One boy spanked; one to go. He turned toward his room and his boy.


	5. Chapter 5

With a soft smile, Casey slipped into the room and shut the door, keeping an eye on his sleeping boy. Chuck had migrated to his side of the bed, curled up around his pillow. The boy snuffled sleepily and cracked an eye open before he made a grumpy noise and shoved his face back into the purloined pillow. The grouchy noises reminded John of a sleepy kitten, although he'd never share that with Chuck. The reaction would be hilarious, but he really valued sleeping in his own bed and not seriously upsetting the kid's masculinity. With a few more minutes of staring, Chuck rolled up onto his elbow and leveled a glare at him. 

Not his best move, considering the trouble he'd managed to find.

"I know that look," he grumbled, voice still sleep-rough. 

"Mmm?" Casey leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. 

"That's your 'poor Chuck's father and formerly dead former friend are huge jerks so I'm going to go easy on him' look." Chuck sat up to better glare at the older man. "And you _can't_! We _agreed_ to rules and consequences and you can't just cancel consequences because I had a bad day. That's NOT how this works! I made choices and they went against our rules, and despite the fall-out with Dad and Bryce, there need to be consequences! I don't want to go back to making stupid decisions and almost getting people killed and trying to fix everything _on my own_!" 

His boy ran out of hysteria; his voice creeping up a couple of octaves by the end. Casey snorted. 

"Kid, I was just enjoying five minutes without you running your mouth. Gotta watch you sleep for it." He pointed out the obvious. It was, probably, a little creepy, but hell, his whole job was about being a little creepy. Who the hell else would live in a _wall_ for two weeks. Other than a patriot. 

Chuck opened his mouth to protest, but Casey held up a hand to forestall him as he crossed to the bed. He sat and hauled Chuck over his lap, patting his backside affectionately.

Chuck spluttered unhappily, squirming as Casey positioned him. Wasn't hard, the kid still hardly weighed anything despite the muscle Casey had forced him to put on. 

"Casey!" he whined. "Aren't we going to _discuss_ this?" 

"Sure." Casey patted him again. "My hand is going to discuss disobedience with your ass. I said all I needed to on it before, kid. It's about time for the consequences you were so hot to get to." 

He yanked the kid's flannels south and admired Chuck's pretty ass for a minute. Chuck made a noise like an indignant kitten, and Casey couldn't hold back an indulgent chuckle. His boy gave a full-body wiggle at that, expressing his displeasure at the scrutiny. 

"For someone who was so hot to get spanked, there's a hell of a lot of squirming going on, kid." He commented, letting the first heavy swat fall.

He spanked with a measured pace, wanting Chuck to fully feel every hard smack. He'd damn well get a full measure of the consequences he was so worked up about. Corralling the boy's wiggling proved easy; he wasn't really trying to get away so much as he needed to squirm against the building sting. 

"OW! Casey! OW!" Chuck clutched at the bedspread, desperately trying NOT to reach back. "I got it! I understand!" 

Casey didn't bother to answer, just shifted Chuck a little forward and kept on spanking slowly. Chuck started kicking then, just testy little taps of his toes against the floorboards. John knew his bot hated being spanked slowly, hated the slow-building burn more than a hard and fast walloping. He heard Chuck's breathing hitch and catch before the first sob broke. He shifted his boy forward at that and paddled the crease of bottom and thigh. Chuck wailed at the fresh, intense sting and wilted over his lap, letting go of the stress and worry of the past couple of days.

Casey smacked Chuck's scarlet backside a few more times before he stopped, resting his stinging palm on the back of his boy's thigh. Chuck sobbed brokenly for a few minutes before he calmed enough for Casey to help him up and manhandle him into his lap. 

Chuck curled up, and Casey wondered how in the hell his boy managed to fit himself into such impossibly small spaces. In any case, he wound his arms around Casey's shoulders and hid his damp face against Casey's neck. Casey brushed a hand up and down Chuck's spine, enjoying the quiet closeness. Chuck seemed to need to hide away, and that was fine. He could be sanctuary for the kid, as long as he needed.

Eventually, Chuck extricated himself and pushed back to look Casey in the eye.

"M'sorry." He sniffled.

"I know, kid. I know." Casey soothed. "You want to nap? You didn't get a lot of sleep last night." 

Chuck nodded, still sniffling. "Please?"

"Flannels up or off?" Casey patted his bare flank.

"Mmm...up?" Chuck sounded confused. "Doesn't hurt as much as usual." 

Casey chuckled at the grouchiness. 

"You want more?"

"No! No sir! I'm good!" Chuck answered hastily, tripping over the words. 

"Hmmm," Casey pretended to consider as he helped Chuck stand. "If you're going to take that kind of attitude…" 

"Absolutely no attitude!" Chuck shifted on his feet. "But...umm...you didn't go easier on me because of Dad and Bryce, right?"

"Kid, that's a dangerous question for a bare-assed little boy to ask." Casey pulled his flannels up and tied them securely anyway. "But you got exactly what you deserved." 

He held up the covers and motioned Chuck to get under. Chuck slid in on his stomach, so Casey took the opportunity to land one last hard swat. 

"That's for doubting." 

Chuck flushed and buried his face in the pillow as Casey drew the covers up and sat next to him. 

"You go to sleep, now." He ran a hand through his boy's tousled curls. "Take a nap for me, and we'll eat something when it's time for you to be up." 

"Soup?" Chuck asked, voice slurring a little.

Casey wasn't surprised, the emotion Chuck worked off during a spanking would exhaust anyone, and his boy was short on sleep. 

"You want chicken noodle?" he rubbed a hand over the kid's shoulders, soothing him more toward sleep.

"Mmm...yum. And oyster crackers?" 

"Yeah kid, we can do that." 

Chuck pressed a sleepy kiss to his palm before Casey stood and went to the door. He shut it quietly on soft snores issuing from his boy. He'd have just enough time to put some soup together before he had to get both boys up. Some coffee, some time spent cooking, peanut butter cookies...his afternoon was looking up. It'd give him time to figure out what lines he wanted Larking to write, too. He figured Beckman would appreciate a copy. 

* * *

 

Chuck sat, feeling more than a little smug, as Casey all-but-dragged Bryce into the kitchen by the collar of his t-shirt.

"I don't give a damn what you want, you spoiled brat. You're going to sit your ass down and do as you're told." Casey growled, planting Bryce on the rungless stool at the counter. 

Chuck bent over his own writing assignment, a full-scale plan of how to deal with people (Bryce) when they tried to take him away from Sarah and Casey. Casey had particularly liked his plan for an improvised weapon made out of a ballpoint, his Nerd Herder badge, and a paperclip. He stifled the smug, though, because being a brat about other people's trouble just got him more of his own. And his ass was sore enough as it was.

But judging by the way Bryce squirmed, his ass felt worse. 

"You're going to sit here and write "I will not drag Chuck into my asinine and dangerous shenanigans" until I tell you to stop." The Growl had about gone nuclear. 

Chuck wondered if Bryce knew how close to the wind he was sailing. On consideration, he probably had no idea. It took a while to parse all of Casey's growls and grunts. Chuck had considered making a 'zine and sending it to anyone who worked with him. Maybe Beckman would like one for Christmas? She had a surprising sense of humor, as long as Chuck didn't open his mouth too much. 

"I won't and you can't make me!" Bryce shot back. 

Chuck sketched out the circuitry for a high-security cell and considered ways through it as he winced. That right there was, mm hmm...suicide. Casey got a good grip around Bryce's waist and flipped him over, bracing against the stool. He landed a flurry of swats on what had to be an already-painful butt. Chuck added some code in the margin. If villains (and the government) were smart, they'd have stayed with everything being locked with its own key. No circumventing the hardware unless you had lockpicks.

"And if you want to keep it up, you can goddamn well sit here with no pants on." Casey planted Bryce on the stool again. 

"Although, General Beckman likes to pop in, so I wouldn't recommend it. She gets lewd." Chuck piped up.

He felt maybe a little bad at Bryce's tear-stained cheeks and embarrassed flush, but humility and the ability to live past 30 in the world they inhabited came at a price.

"Fine." Bryce sulked. "I'll write."

"Fine." Casey growled back. "You sit and you write. I hear any grumbling, complaining, or bitching from you and you'll go back over my knee, bare. And don't think I'll haul you out of here, first."

Chuck finished a little piece of a very clever virus that would unlock doors only if a person sang "You Are My Sunshine". Awesome. Granted, you needed to get a voice print in the system first, but it wasn't that hard.

"Kid, I have no idea what half of this _is_." Casey leaned over his shoulder.

"My kind of weaponry." Chuck leaned back a little against him. "Code and brains and running away."

"Good boy. You done?"

Chuck nodded. He was pretty sure he'd remembered to close all his tags, so he was probably done. Some of what he'd do to anyone who tried to take him away from Casey was maybe a little vindictive, but anyone who tried it _deserved_ to have their bank account cleared and given to the DNC. He just hoped Casey didn't see that part. He was pretty sure it would get him in some hot water.

Although, he could let May tell Casey. Maybe they'd have another Reagan-Republican/Raging Liberal argument.

He never got tired of hearing May screech "Audie Cornish is NOT a Pinko-Commie and Nina Totenberg is NOT working for our enemies you paranoid bastard!"

Especially since Casey actually LIKED NPR. He just didn't think the government should be funding it.

 


End file.
